Clearly done with the conversation and the confrontation, he disappeared into the house, and I heard him opening the door to the back deck. He wasn’t kidding when he said he loved the water. Whenever I couldn’t find him inside, he was out there somewhere, feet in the water, eyes focused on the horizon, silently looking for something, patiently waiting for anything.
I dumped his clothes in the laundry room and dropped his shoes outside his partially open bedroom door. I’d been in his room enough searching for any kind of hidden stash that I knew he actually tended to keep his personal space tidy. There was an occasional t-shirt on the floor, and he always seemed to have endless packs of cigarettes scattered across every surface, but he wasn’t a pig, which made the extra work he left lying around for Miglena even more irritating. Today, the black boxers he’d been sporting earlier were also on the floor from when he’d changed in a hurry. I didn’t want to think about Cable naked, but I was . . . more often than I was comfortable with. He was obviously doing it to prove a point, and it made me wonder if his mom might have been right when she told me he very well might relapse just to get back at her. He seemed incapable of making the right choice and intent on hurting those who wanted to help.
I was going to pull the door closed when the spiral notebook that always seemed to be within his reach caught my eye. It was open on his bed, several colorful images dotting the previously plain pages. Without thinking too much about it, I pushed the door open and walked into the room. I was snooping, but considering I regularly rifled through his underwear drawer looking for drugs, I didn’t bother to feel too bad about it.
I perched on the edge of the bed and pulled the notebook onto my lap.
For a split-second, I stopped breathing.
I was holding the ocean and the sun in my hands. The images on the paper were so realistic I could practically feel the water on my fingertips and the sun shining on my face. It didn’t seem possible that cold, distant, drifting Cable could capture something so warm and real with nothing more than a few strokes of a colored pencil. He was outrageously talented. Overwhelmingly so. The skill and artistry jumped off every single page I flipped through and hit me with a punch of awe.
He said he didn’t have anything he was interested in; he pretended the only thing he had going for him were his good looks and his ability to make women loopy with lust, but that was all a lie. The boy had a gift . . . was gifted . . . and he didn’t even seem to know it.
The pages were full of images ranging from the stunning landscapes to darker, harder stuff. Skulls, demons, dragons, and Grim Reapers all done in harsh black and gray, and all were realistic enough that they gave me chills. There were pages full of flowers and birds. There was a handful of images of very sexy, very naked women that made me blush. Then there were the pages covered in women in a bunch of different, dramatic outfits. There was a sexy nurse, a sexy cop, a sexy soldier, and a sexy mermaid. They were all done up in 1950’s pin-up style with big boobs and super tiny waists. He didn’t seem to have one singular preference. The pictures he drew were all over the place, but they were all amazing and too pretty to be trapped in a cheap sketch notebook from the grocery store.
I let out the breath I’d been holding and pushed to my feet. I closed the notebook and tiptoed out of the room. Even though I knew every nook and cranny of his personal space, when I went looking through his drawings, it occurred to me that I was looking inside of him, and it seemed incredibly invasive and intimate. His darkness was caught on those pages, but so was the light he tried so hard to keep from shining through.
I made my way down the hallway and out to the deck through the door Cable hadn’t bothered to close when he stormed out earlier. There was a light breeze whipping the salt-scented air, which immediately caught in my hair and tangled all around my face. Once I had it all wrangled and caught in a fist, I noticed that Cable was indeed down by the water and he wasn’t alone.
They were too far away to make out what the girl in the water with him looked like, but there was no missing she had curves for days, and they were barely contained by an itty-bitty, teal bikini. The barely contained mounds were also pressed up against Cable’s tanned, toned chest as she squealed and hollered loud enough to make my ears ring as wave after wave rolled over them. Cable wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t doing much of anything as the girl practically climbed all over him. His hands were on her waist, but his eyes were focused on something—or rather, someone—over her head.
That someone was me.
I hated that jealousy made me stiff. I hated that my stomach turned when the girl giggled obnoxiously and I could hear it over the wind. I hated that he watched me, that he instinctively knew the sight of him with her bothered me, and he was frolicking with her just to get under my skin. He didn’t need to bother. He was way under my skin. It was the other parts of me I was worried about him getting under and inside of now.
And I hated that it made me realize I was so far from hating Cable that I wasn’t sure how I got here, or if I would ever be able to find my way back.
I went inside when he started to lower his head toward the girl in the bikini, hating that he was wasting himself on her . . . and hating that I cared. I lost myself in the familiarity of it all, understanding those feelings and terrified of the ones still swirling after seeing all the brightness hidden deep inside his endless darkness.
Cable
I KNEW I was a mess.
Unhinged and hanging on the precipice of becoming someone who was beyond any kind of redemption. I teetered on the brink of making bad choices every moment I was awake, but somehow, some way, I always managed to keep myself from going completely over. It was the look in Affton’s eyes when I came out of my epic freak-out that had me keep one foot on the line and one foot behind it. There was genuine concern for me in those pretty, almost purple eyes. There was worry and want she tried to hide in that gaze, as well. She tried to hate me, but she was too good of a person, too compassionate and empathetic to follow through on those emotions. She cared, and it scared the holy fuck out of me.
I had no clue what to do with these new feelings. I was sure I didn’t want her to give a crap about me. I had no idea how to navigate genuine, sincere compassion. I was inexperienced in dealing with emotion that wasn’t leveraged or manipulated. I was unsettled and acutely aware of her.
Every breath she took, I swore I could hear.
Every time she blinked, those eyes that saw far too much and witnessed as I ducked and dodged her. I watched them grow dark blue, blooming like a bruise as she tried to hide the way my evasion hurt her.
Every time I sidestepped and ignored her, I swore I could feel the way her blood boiled, and her aggravation made her warm from head to toe. I got hard at the way she flushed a pretty pink when I pissed her off, but I wasn’t going out of my way to tell her that. I wasn’t going out of my way to tell her anything.
When I opened my eyes and saw her on her knees in front of me, her hands holding my face as the memories from that night tore me apart and shredded what was left of my soul, all I wanted to do was lean on her. She always seemed so strong, so stable, and unshakable. She was the opposite of adrift, and I wondered if I got ahold of her if she would be able to keep me from sinking. But then, she told me that it was impossible for her not to worry about me and all I could see was me dragging her down, pulling her under. It’s what I did. The thought of all that icy, white-blonde hair and those fantastic eyes going blank as she sank with me to the bottom of the ocean of despair and disappointment was enough to have me acting like even more of an asshole than I already was.
I thought she would heed the no trespassing signs, but I underestimated her need to save the unsavable. She danced around everything I threw at her like a goddamn ballerina. She pushed just as hard as I pulled, and as much as I wanted to pretend I could spend the summer living my life around her just to annoy her, it quickly became clear that my life was becoming her, and that was incredibly overwhelming.
&n
bsp; So, I did what I always did and fucked everything up. Or, at least I tried to.
I was rude to her.
I disappeared on her pretty much every day.
I was nasty to Miglena for no reason.
I was back to refusing to talk to Doc Howard during our visits, and I blew off the idea of studying for the GED.
I didn’t score or relapse, but I thought about it. I knew it was the one surefire way to get Affton Reed gone, but I couldn’t do it. I was tempted. Every second of every day I was tempted, but I didn’t want to see the look on her face when I failed one of my drug tests. The truth was I really didn’t want to end up behind bars. Having the freedom to get in the water whenever I wanted, the liberty to talk to whomever I wanted, to frolic with and fuck whomever caught my eye . . . well, those were luxuries I didn’t want to be without ever again. Not that there was much fucking taking place. It was just one more aspect of my world Affton had knocked off its axis. My body was willing, but my mind, the traitorous bastard, was still wrapped around the wrong girl and it didn’t matter how much I pleaded with my thoughts to let go. There was no pretending that a stacked brunette was Affton. There was no fooling my imagination into thinking a blonde with green eyes would do when all I could think about were periwinkle ones.
And speaking of those unforgettable eyes, they clocked me as soon as I stepped in the house off the deck. I was wet and sandy from watching the sun go down over the water as I smoked and contemplated how I was supposed to keep the distance between us when all I really wanted to do was get as close to her as possible. She was in a white sundress that showed off her golden tan, and her pale hair was piled on top of her head in a messy knot. She could be the poster girl for sweet and seductive innocence. In that moment, I felt every forbidden feeling she awoke in me roar and howl in my blood. She was so bright and clean. I wanted to drag her down to my level. Dirty her up and show her how much fun we could have in the dark. She would glow there, the only spot of light allowed into that dreary place.
She watched me, and I watched the way she blushed. I ran a hand over my damp hair and let it trail across my chest. Her eyes tracked the movement as the end of her tongue darted out to slick across her bottom lip. I got off on getting her to react but hated that her reaction always caused one of my own. There was very little the wet fabric of my board shorts could do to hide the way my body tightened and hardened whenever she responded. She lifted a hand to her throat and jerked her eyes back up to mine. Yeah, she wanted to hate me, and it really bothered her that she didn’t. It made her all kinds of flustered and uneasy that I got to her. It made me even harder.
“What were you doing out there for so long?” I knew she meant to sound authoritative, but I could hear the hesitancy in her tone. She hated it when I vanished. She hated it even more when I reappeared with a warm body that wasn’t hers. She tried to hide the way my dalliances rubbed her the wrong way. As much time as I spent watching her, I could see through her façade. She thought it was made of iron and steel, but her barriers were as clear as glass and probably just as fragile.
I put my hands on my hips, and her gaze immediately dropped to my waist. I saw her swallow hard and bit back a grin as she whirled around and stomped toward the kitchen, her bare feet slapping noisily on the marble tile. I followed behind her, my eyes on the soft sway of her hips in that white dress. She was supposed to be the girl next door, not pure temptation and sultry seduction. She was going to have those college boys clamoring to find out if she tasted as sweet as she looked. My mouth was already watering.
The thought made me frown as we faced off over the wide island. She crossed her arms over her chest, which only served to push her very nice rack up higher and tighter against the cotton fabric. My brain short-circuited a little as I tried to determine if she was wearing a bra or not. I braced my hands on either side of the counter and leaned forward. “I was thinking.”
She was surprised I answered her. “Thinking about what?”
I was thinking about all the time I’d wasted and all the opportunities I’d let slip by me. I was thinking about all the sex I wasn’t having and all the sex I wanted to have with her. I was thinking about finally answering the phone when my mom called and asking Miglena if I could meet my sisters. I was thinking about drawing her, her face, her eyes, her mouth, and that led to thinking about why I was thinking all those things.
I pushed on the edge of the counter, which made the muscles in my arms bulge and flexed the ink that decorated my shoulder. She watched, but her eyes were wary because she knew I was leading her somewhere she didn’t want to go.
“I was thinking about you.”
Her eyes immediately narrowed at the confession, and her shoulders stiffened. I watched her chest heave, and I swore I could see her pulse flutter at the base of her throat. “You’ve been ignoring me, and when you do bother to acknowledge me, you pick a fight. You don’t want me here any more than I want to be here. You’ve made that pretty clear.”
“I don’t want anyone here, Reed. You aren’t special.” I was lying through my teeth. She was more than special. She was extraordinary, which made me feel even more unworthy and inferior than I typically did.
I let my eyes roll over her and gave her a smirk. “You could be some kind of virgin sacrifice who’s going to get thrown into an erupting volcano in that dress.”
She hugged herself tighter, and her flush turned even redder. Something hot and hungry pulsed in the center of my chest as she averted her eyes and snapped, “The only angry god I want to appease is the one standing in front of me. Can we call a truce, Cable? Whatever it is we’re doing is exhausting and not very much fun.”
Usually, the only thing I had to offer the opposite sex was a good time and a whole lot of fun. Nothing was typical anymore, especially when it came to her.
“Are you calling me a god, Reed?”
She rolled her eyes so hard I was pretty sure she could see the back of her skull. She let out a little huff. “You’re definitely a legend in your own mind.”
I grinned at her and lifted an eyebrow. “So, are you?”
She uncrossed her arms and tossed up her hands in exasperation. “Am I what?”
“The sacrificial virgin? My mom wouldn’t think twice about spilling a little innocent blood in order to achieve the outcome she’s after.” Affton was glaring at me so hard I was surprised the impact of her gaze didn’t leave marks.
“I fail to see how that’s any of your business.” She was uncomfortable. She always got fidgety when I brought up sex, so I did it a lot because it was fun to watch her feathers ruffle.
I snorted. “We went to school together, remember? I think it would have gotten around if someone managed to melt through all that ice that surrounds you. The guys used to talk about it all the time. There was a running joke that anyone who got close enough was going to need a blowtorch to get to the goods.”
Her eyes darkened to that blueish-purple. Those eyes gave every hurt I caused away. I was just giving her a hard time, trying to rile her up, but she looked at me like I betrayed her.
Her spine stiffened so that she was arrow straight, and before she bit down on it, I saw her lower lip tremble. I felt that little quiver all the way through me. I never needed much help feeling like shit, but watching this girl who seemed unbreakable visibly hold herself together in front of me because of what I’d said hit a low that was lower than low . . . and I’d been in prison. I’d also been responsible for the death of another person and forever changed the life of another.
“Affton . . .”
She held up her hand as I started an awkward and clumsy apology. She didn’t want to hear it, and I couldn’t fault her for it.
“I don’t know why any of those boys would say anything about me. All I wanted to do was graduate and get out of Loveless. I didn’t bother anyone . . . except for you.” She laughed, but it was harsh and grating. “I’ve regretted it every second since. If I’d just kept to myself, I wouldn’t be
here, and you would be . . . well, I don’t know where you would be, but it would be far, far away from me.”
She stepped back from the island and moved out of the kitchen. I called her name again and she stopped reluctantly. She looked at me over her shoulder, and I could see I’d finally found a way to make her as vulnerable as I was.
“Guys talk. When you look the way you do, and you ignore all of them, they talk even more.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “You told me I needed to worry more about myself and how I looked, so what do you mean when I ‘look the way I do’?”
Shit. Of course, she would remember that dig when she first confronted me. I turned, so I was facing her and shrugged. “I lied.”
She jerked a little at the admission but kept her eyes locked on mine.
“I’m a liar. That shouldn’t surprise you. Most addicts are. I lied about you needing to change anything about the way you looked for you to be hot. You’re a stunner without even trying, Reed. It’s actually pretty annoying.”
She blinked at me a couple of times without saying a word. I couldn’t tell if I had smoothed things over or not, but then she told me, “I dated Hayes Lawton for a while. He was sweet. He was smart, and I trusted him.”
“He’s the sheriff’s son.” I knew Hayes. He was the exact opposite of everything I was. He was a straight-A student. He was the captain of the football team. He was a good ol’ boy who was a genuinely good guy. He never talked about Affton or any other girl, for that matter. He never got in trouble, and of course, if Affton was going to give it up it was going to be to someone who was as idealistic and as driven as she was. She was on her own level, but Hayes Lawton was almost up there as high as she was. Suddenly, I was the one feeling wounded by my words.
Recovered Page 9
